Page 68 of A Matter of Time

“Hah,” Sam said, leaning back into the room. “That hurt like a motherfucker, didn’t it.”

“Owwww,” I moaned.

He grunted, and then he was gone.

And even though I was pretty sure if I had an orgasm, it would kill me, I thought having Sam Kage again would be worth it.

On a very nice tray, the kind with the legs, I got a bagel with egg, ham, cheddar cheese, garlic salt and chili flakes. He’d even cut it in half for me. I also got some peeled apple slices, a glass of orange juice, a glass of water, and a big mug of coffee. Then there was a horse pill—800 milligrams of ibuprofen—and a bottle with more of them. The label had my name on it, which I thought was odd, but then I was brought discharge papers from the hospital. He’d been busy.

“You can just do that? Have me discharged and pick up a prescription?”

“Police detective,” he reiterated for me, as he took the tray away, leaving me the glass of water on his nightstand for later.“Get it?”

I waved him away, snuggling back down under his covers. “Be gone. I’m tired.”

He shook his head. “Concussion isn’t as bad as I thought. My last one was worse than what you’ve got going on.”

“It’s not a contest.”

“That wasn’t what I was⁠—”

“Are you still here?”

He scoffed. “You’re a pill, and hating my bed, I can tell.”

“It’s unexpected,” I whispered.

“What was that?”

“I thought you slept on a cot in a tiny studio apartment.”

“Is that right?”

“You seem quite spartan.”

He nodded. “Well, I’m a big fan of creature comforts.”

“But not moisturizer or sun screen.”

“What?”

“Tired,” I muttered, closing my eyes. “Sleeping now.”

And I thought I had dismissed him, but as I was nestling in the mound of covers, I got a kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll be here,” he rumbled.

I didn’t dare open my eyes. I refused to cry over a man who barely liked me.

When my phone rang, it woke me from a dead sleep. Squinting at the display, I saw it was my boss. I wasn’t surprised that he’d called before I could. There was, as far as I knew, not a patient bone in the man’s body.

“Hello,” I said, my voice gravelly before I cleared my throat and tried again. “Hello.”

“Are you trying to make me deaf?”

“Yes,” I answered drolly.

“You’re in trouble,” he said flatly. “I talked to Detective Kage, and he said you’re in protective custody. Is that correct?”